


Loving You Has Made Me Believe It's Forever

by whispered_story



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam likes to hold on to things; a photo of their parents, a knife John gave him, a bracelet that belonged to Jess – and, most importantly, Dean's amulet. [reposted, first posted on livejournal 2/4/2012]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving You Has Made Me Believe It's Forever

Sam's worldly belongings fit into a duffel bag, and most days he doesn't care. But there are moments, like when he walks into someone else's house and there are photos and knicknacks everywhere, that he feels a sadness overcome him, seeing all the things he doesn't have.

Sam doesn't want to settle down. Not anymore. But sometimes he longs for what settling down would give him – the stability, the home. Something to hold on to.

What Sam has is a duffel of clothes, some toiletries, and a trunk full of weapons. The trunk itself isn't Sam's either – it's Dean's. The Impala is Sam's home, but it's not _his_. 

It's why Sam holds on to things he doesn't really need sometimes, just to have _something_. Things that make Sam forget how little he has in life; about Sam, the person, and Sam, the hunter.

He has a t-shirt Dean bought for him at a concert years ago – because he'd been embarrassed by how totally not cool the shirt Sam had been wearing had been. It's tucked away among his things, washed-out and too small. Sam never wears it anymore, but he holds on to it, to remind him of things he and Dean did that weren't about killing monsters. Something that, for a few hours, had made him feel completely normal.

He has an old photograph of their parents, too. It's creased and faded, but they look happy, and it makes Sam both want to smile and cry when he looks at it.

He has a pocket knife their dad gave him for his thirteenth birthday, a bracelet that belonged to Jess, and one of Bobby's caps. 

But Sam thinks that, out of all these things, the one thing that means the most to him is Dean's amulet, safely hidden between Sam's clothes, wrapped in a t-shirt he knows Dean hates and would never sneak from him.

He's not sure why he hides the amulet from Dean, even now. At first, after he picked it out of the trash, he did it because he was hurt. Hurt that Dean would toss it away like it never meant anything to him. But the hurt faded with each day that passed and things between them got better, went back to how they were before things got so fucked up between them. 

Now, he thinks he keeps the amulet to himself because it was a part of Dean and as long as Sam keeps it with him, as long as the amulet is his and he doesn't share it with anyone, it feels like Dean is his, too. 

All of Sam's other keepsakes are reminders of the things he lost – a childhood he never really had, his family, his girlfriend. 

Dean is all he has left, and Sam doesn't even want to share him with Dean himself sometimes.

+

Sam is sitting on the hood of the Impala, watching Dean throw stones into the lake. Twenty minutes ago, Dean was skipping stones, and Sam followed the path of each stone, the soft noises they made each time they connected with the surface before finally sinking into the water.

"Come on," Dean says, voice raised. His back is facing Sam, but Sam can picture the look on his face perfectly – the challenging, stubborn jut of Dean's jaw, eyes narrowed.

"Dean," Sam says. "Just give it up."

"Stupid lake monster," Dean grouses, turning around with a sigh.

"I think there really isn't a lake monster," Sam says with a chuckle.

Dean's lower lip sticks out, and Sam knows Dean will never admit to the fact that he's _pouting_. He feels a rush of fondness wash over him, watching Dean.

"I was really looking forward to killing a lake monster though," Dean complains. He finally leaves his place on the bank of the lake and moves back to the car instead.

"Another time," Sam reassures him.

"You always say that," Dean replies, raising a finger at Sam. "You suck. Seriously, you know how awesome it would be to gank an honest-to-god _lake monster_?"

Sam laughs, feels carefree and relaxed, and the feeling's been so rare in the last few years that it always surprises him.

Dean rummages around the backseat of the Impala for a while. He comes back with two beers, holding one out to Sam while he sits down on the hood with him.

"Thanks," Sam says. He twists off the cap and knocks the neck of his bottle against Dean's.

They sit side by side, silently, drinking their beer. Dean is a warm, familiar weight against Sam's side, and he leans into it as he watches the sun set slowly.

"Think we'll ever get to kill one?" Dean finally asks into the quiet, and Sam snorts.

"You just gotta want it enough and it'll come true," Sam teases, nudging Dean with his elbow.

Dean narrows his eyes. "Don't patronize me, Sammy," he says. He finishes off his beer and hops off the Impala. "Another one or wanna get going, find a motel?"

Sam looks at the lake and shrugs. "We could stay the night," he suggests.

Dean seems to ponder the thought for a moment, before he nods. "Yeah. We could," he agrees, and his voice is quiet, soft.

He gets two more bottles of beers, and sits back down next to Sam with a sigh that doesn't sound all too unhappy.

"'s kinda nice out here, huh?" he asks.

"Now that we know there's no lake monster here, yeah," Sam agrees. "Peaceful."

Sam can see Dean lift his hand from the corner of his eye, hesitating before he brushes the tips of his fingers down Sam's temple. Sam knows he's thinking about how _not_ peaceful Sam's life has been, just like he knows Dean sometimes still worries that it'll come back. Worries that what Castiel did wasn't enough; didn't fix things permanently.

Sam still has nightmares, and memories, and days where he wants to crawl into bed and hide, but it's nothing compared to before. It's nothing Sam can't handle.

"I'm okay," he says, unprompted.

"Good," Dean murmurs. His hand falls from Sam's temple, coming to rest on Sam's thigh. For a moment, Sam thinks he can feel Dean tense, as if he waits for Sam to pull away or push his hand off. Sam holds still and when Dean relaxes, he smiles and feels his stomach flutter with hope.

They stay on the hood of the Impala until the sun sets.

That night, just the two of them, feels like a beginning.

+

"Cherry?" Dean asks hopefully, when Sam sets a plate with a small pie down in front of him.

"Cherry," Sam replies with a nod. He sits down across from Dean and sips his latte, watching Dean dig in.

"God, this is good," Dean moans after the first bite. "Wanna try?"

"I'm good," Sam says, shaking his head. "It's all yours."

"You know how to treat a guy, Sammy," Dean says with a wink. 

Sam smiles. "Learned from the best," he replies. 

Dean grins smugly and puts another fork of pie into his mouth. He finishes the whole thing in a couple of minutes, sitting back with a satisfied groan when he's done.

"You have," Sam starts, rubbing a finger over the corner of his mouth.

"Where?" Dean asks, pink tongue sneaking out and flicking over his lips.

Sam thinks about it for a moment and then he leans over the table and wipes away the bit of cherry-filling clinging to Dean's lip. 

"There," Sam says, dropping his hand, and he feels himself flush. He wonders, for a brief moment, if he just crossed some lines, moved too fast, too far. But Dean catches his hand by the wrist and smiles. Their hands come to rest on the table halfway between them, and Dean's thumb rubs small circles into Sam's skin while Sam finishes his latte.

+

"Would you hurry up?" Sam asks, shooting another round of rock salt into the spirit. It dissipates and Sam risks glancing over his shoulder at Dean to find him fumbling with the lighter.

"Dean," Sam hisses.

"One moment. Don't get your panties in a twist," Dean replies, and mutters a curse under his breath when the small flame of the lighter dies out within a split second.

"Excuse me for not--" Sam has to stop to duck when the spirit comes hurdling at him, and he shoots it again.

He quickly reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his own lighter.

"Dean," he says, and throws it at him when Dean looks up. 

"Thank fucking god," Dean says, catching it. He flips it open, smiling when a flame flares up, and tosses it into the open grave.

Sam sighs in relief, watching the fire spread quickly, and walks over to Dean. They stand in front of the grave, watching the corpse burn.

"Almost got your ass kicked by a ghost," Dean says.

"Because you can't even get a simple job down without help," Sam mutters, eyebrows drawn together, and he feels a flash of irritation. 

"Hey, Sam," Dean says conversationally, grinning. 

"What?" Sam asks snappishly.

"Would it be totally inappropriate if I kissed you right now?"

Sam huffs, even as his heartbeat picks up. "Probably," he says.

"Huh," Dean says, and he nudges Sam around and kisses him anyway. Sam is dumbstruck for a moment, despite Dean's warning, and it's not until Dean laughs against his lips that Sam snaps out of it. He thinks he should probably pull away, but instead, he grabs Dean by the shoulders and kisses him back.

The smell of fire makes it hard to breath, and the flames licking up at the edge of the hole Dean dug are hot, making Sam sweat, but all of that fades away when Dean moans softly and curls his fingers into Sam's hair.

Sam knows he won't need a keepsake, because he'll remember this moment for the rest of his life.

+

"I never thought this would happen," Dean says. "I never thought I'd get to have this."

Sam blinks sleepily, turns his head from where it's been resting against the window. "What?" he asks drowsily.

"Nothing," Dean murmurs. "Go back to sleep, Sammy."

Sam sighs. Dean's jacket is covering him and he feels warm and content, his eyes sliding shut again. "Never thought I'd get to have this either," he mumbles, reaching for Dean blindly until his hand finds Dean's arm.

"Well, it _is_ kinda fucked up," Dean admits.

Sam feels his lips twitch into a smile. "Everything in our lives is," he replies around a yawn.

"Yeah," Dean agrees softly. "Yeah, guess so."

+

They have sex for the first time in a shabby motel room in Pennsylvania. The wallpaper is peeling off, there's a water stain on the ceiling above the bed, and the bed creaks with each of Dean's thrusts.

It's sort of perfect.

Dean has Sam's arms pinned to the mattress above his head, his hands securely curled around Sam's wrists, and Sam's legs are wrapped around Dean's waist. It feels like Dean is everywhere around him, inside him, all-encompassing. 

He feels stretched around Dean, Dean big and hard inside him, making Sam's world narrow down to the feeling of being filled, to Dean. Each thrust of Dean's hips makes his cock drag against Sam's prostate, sending new waves of pleasure rolling through Sam's body. 

He comes untouched, gasping Dean's name into Dean's mouth.

Afterward, they lie curled together, legs tangled and Dean's hand stroking down Sam's arm lazily.

Sam buries his nose in Dean's neck and breathes him in.

+

Sam steals the shirt Dean wore that night, before Sam tugged it off him and flung it across the room.

He figures it's a less creepy keepsake than the condom wrapper he steps onto the next morning.

+

If Sam were to put this thing between him and Dean into words, he wouldn't know how to.

Every term Sam can think of sounds too normal, too _little_ for what's between them and, at the same time, too much. Dean isn't just some guy. He's not Sam's boyfriend. He's just Dean, and he's too important, too huge of a presence in Sam's life, to reduce him to one word. 

Whatever they have, though, it fits seamlessly into their lives. It's like being with each other was the next logical step for them to take, the _only_ path for them to take, really. It's all been leading up to this, only they didn't realize it until they were already in too deep. And yet, despite how huge this seems, it's just another facet to all the things they already are, already mean to each other.

They hunt and fight and bicker. Dean is still over-protective and annoying. Sam is still obnoxious and pushy. Except now, when Dean checks Sam for injuries, his hands linger on Sam's skin a little longer, and they crawl into bed together after a long day of hunting or driving, kissing and touching. They're still them, only there are no more limits now, nothing that's holding them back.

It makes Sam feel inexplicably _free_.

+

Sam knows Dean isn't completely unaware of Sam's habit of collecting keepsakes. He doesn't know about everything – not the amulet, or the t-shirt Sam stole from him a couple of months ago. But he knows about everything else. He knows about the things Sam keeps to remember who he lost – Jess, their parents, Bobby.

Sam doesn't try to keep those things hidden from Dean. And sometimes, when he'll catch Sam looking at one of these things, he'll get this sad look on his face. Like it's his fault that they lost so many people in their lives, like he wishes he could have done anything to spare Sam this kind of pain. 

Sam thinks that Dean sometimes forgets that it's both their pain, and that Sam, more than anything, wishes Dean's life could have been different too. 

Except, Sam knows that they never would have ended here if their lives would have been different. They never would have ended up together, like this, and as much as it pains Sam to have these thoughts, he knows he'd choose to go the same a path all over again if he had to.

+

Sam wakes up with Dean's hand resting on his heart and Dean snoring softly into his ear.

He shifts carefully, trying not to disturb Dean, until he can see Dean's face. Asleep, he looks relaxed. Younger. Freckles scattered across his face, his lips parted, the usual lines smoothed out.

Sam touches his cheek softly, the tip of his finger tracing over skin. 

When Dean starts to stir, Sam kisses him softly, and Dean makes a sleepy, content noise against his lips.

"Morning," Sam whispers, brushing his thumb over Dean's brow.

"Hmm. Morning, Sammy," Dean mumbles, a small smile on his lips and his eyes still half-closed. 

He looks _happy_.

+

Sam stares at his reflection in the dirty, cracked mirrors of the public restroom. Outside, an engine roars.

"Sam," Dean calls through the closed door. "You coming?"

"One second," Sam calls back.

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out the amulet. It looks smaller than he remembers, lying in the palm of his hand the way it did years ago when Bobby had given it to him.

Sam slides the necklace over his head, and it falls into place, the amulet resting against his chest. Unfamiliar, but not out of place.

He studies himself for a moment. He thought seeing the amulet around his own neck would be like a reminder of Dean's place in his life, of how Dean is his because this piece of Dean's life belongs to Sam now. 

Instead, it reminds Sam of the fact the he is _Dean's_ , and he thinks maybe that's the real reason he's been holding on to it all along.

Sam smiles at his reflection, touching the tiny, golden horns gently, and thinks he's finally ready to share this with Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Jason Segel's "Dracula Lament".


End file.
